


swimming lessons

by averagefaces



Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, ngl this is one of my best moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 20:24:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/averagefaces/pseuds/averagefaces
Summary: Nichkhun's lips are white. They stare at each other for one, two, three heartbeats, and Wooyoung wants, wants so much he aches with it. "Do you hate me?" Nichkhun asks.It takes two seconds for Wooyoung to burst out laughing. "No," he says, looking up at the ceiling and wiping the corners of his eyes. "Couldn't even if I tried."Even then, Wooyoung doesn't think he ever really tried too hard.





	swimming lessons

**Author's Note:**

> Published March 2013. Revised February 2017. Reposted January 2019.
> 
> This is a work of fiction, no harm intended to any parties involved. Please do not repost/copy or translate without permission; you're welcome to share this link. Thank you for reading!

 

 

i:

The only reason Wooyoung realizes this is a dream is the fuzzy feeling at the corner of his eyes. The edges of his vision are blurry, grayish and shapeless, and it takes him a while to come down to it, with the lightness of his limbs and the distant echo of things that aren't really there.

Wooyoung is standing in the middle of a room, a classroom in fact, and there are people scattered around, some reading, some talking, but he can't see their faces. The window in front of him is large, it's half the wall in length and width and just standing in front of it makes Wooyoung shiver.

He knows this place. He's been here before, back in his freshmen year, back when he was a bit too scrawny and a bit too shy and a bit too naïve to believe everything lasted forever. He turns around and meets the front desk, faces it dead on because it can't hurt him here, not in his dream -- but it hurts anyway, the face that meets him when he looks up.

Sometimes Wooyoung wonders if his Asian Studies professor did this on purpose: name his horrendously good-looking son as the TA and drive Wooyoung mad so he could fail and have to retake the course next semester. Because, honestly, Wooyoung would've aced it with flying colors had Nichkhun not been there to distract him.

Dream-Nichkhun looks up from the paper sheets on the desk, his face young and blurry but so horrifyingly real that makes Wooyoung take a step back. Not-Nichkhun smiles a small smile, a mere tug of lips, his eyes so filled with sorrow the floor under Wooyoung's feet shake. If it weren't a dream Wooyoung'd be screaming bloody murder for an earthquake.

"I miss you already," Not-Nichkhun mouths from the desk, his eyes wide and hurt and everything Wooyoung remembers from the last time they saw each other, his skin pale under the bright lights of the airport.

The odd thing is Wooyoung hears his own voice instead of Nichkhun's and feels water beneath his feet.

 

ii:

When Wooyoung moves back in with Junho, he doesn't expect Junho to meddle and ask what the fuck is going on because Junho isn't really the type to do that sort of thing. But then one morning he wakes up to loud banging on his door and Junho's exasperated cries of, "Jesus fuck, Jang Wooyoung, if you're gonna have nightmares and scream like a hyena at least have the mind to leave your fucking door unlocked."

That's how Wooyoung finds himself sitting down on the large futon in their small living room (or Junho's if he decides to kick Wooyoung out--which really wouldn't surprise him in the slightest), his hair sticking out in every possible direction and his pajamas still warm and wrinkled from sleep.

"What is going on," Junho says, his tone half asking and half demanding to know. His brow is furrowed deeply and it reminds Wooyoung of Junho's mom when they were younger and thought jumping around under the rain and landing face first in the mud was a spectacular idea.

Wooyoung misses those days.

"I'm okay," Wooyoung mutters. He isn't though, but Junho doesn't need to know that.

"That's not what I asked," Junho sighs and Wooyoung just shakes his head; stands when Junho holds his hands up in silent surrender, sagging against the couch.

Wooyoung pads quietly towards the bathroom, thinks of locking himself in there until Junho leaves for work but realizes he doesn't have a clue where stuff is anymore and spends at least five minutes trying to figure out how to open the cabinet under the sink before giving up and pulling the door open.

"Hey, could you come here for a sec?" he hollers, and waves at the bathroom in general when Junho shows up. "I've no idea what you've done with the bathroom so might as well give me a 101 if you want to find it intact when you come back."

Junho looks lost for a second but then his mouth opens in a silent 'oh'. "Ah, my sister had a baby-proof system installed when she lived here. You just gotta push that thing over there."

Next comes five minutes of awkward explaining and then Junho magically produces a towel out of nowhere, shoves it towards Wooyoung. "You can use this one until you buy one or whatever. It's not been used. There's shampoo, and conditioner if you're into that sort of thing, too. And you already know how to work the hot and cold keys so just get in there and do your thing."

"My thing," Wooyoung echoes dully.

"Wash and rinse, my friend, wash and rinse," Junho smiles weakly. "I have to go now so feel free to look around? Nothing's changed much in here, my sister was a neat freak like you."

"We're great people, though, us neat freaks," Wooyoung says absentmindedly, squinting at the horrible flowery pattern of the shower curtains.

"Of course," Junho concedes, his smile widening slightly as he retreats. "Give me a call if you've no plans for lunch, yeah?"

Wooyoung nods, his stomach churning at the thought of food. "Sure. Try not to drive into anyone's garden on your way to the hospital."

"One time," Junho hollers from the hallway, "it was one time and it was your fault! Even Mrs. Choi knew that!"

Wooyoung steps under the spray still smiling, still feeling lightheaded and warm. The water is tepid on his skin, and Wooyoung is lazily thinking about what he's going to have for breakfast (probably toast, bacon and orange juice because Junho's always been picky like that) and even starts thinking about lunch and that new place he's heard of downtown, when he reaches for the bottle of shampoo.

Wooyoung stares at it for about five seconds, wondering why the hell does it look and smell so familiar when he suddenly remembers,  _ really  _ remembers and it's like he can't breathe, like the walls and the ceiling are closing down on him, his stomach twisting into knots but not from hunger anymore, his lungs burning for air.

It's silly, he thinks distantly, it's  _ ridiculous  _ and  _ stupid  _ because it's just a bottle of shampoo, but it's like a trigger, a chain reaction--Wooyoung remembers loud bickering and a lady telling them their hair would smell like sunflowers if they bought it, Nichkhun's speechless face when Wooyoung shoved three samples on their trolley. But most of all he remembers singing loudly to the shampoo's brand song while Nichkhun brushed his teeth, remembers Nichkhun pinning him to the wall and threatening to buy ten more samples if Wooyoung didn't stop singing, his whole body laughing from the inside out.

"Damn it," Wooyoung mumbles as he presses his forehead to the tiled wall of the shower.

It's long past dinner time when Wooyoung opens the door and the delivery guy squints at the receipt and says, "Mister-- uhm, Lee Junho? Yeah, Lee Junho sent this. It's paid, already, sir, have a good night," and thrusts a box of pizza into Wooyoung's arms.

When Wooyoung texts  _ Thank you _ all Junho replies is  _ knew the shower curtains would make u lose ur appetite. save me a slice or ur goin down. i know how to kill a man, wooyoung, i mean it. _

 

iii:

The bed used to be theirs. Wooyoung hasn't gotten rid of it yet because he's been too busy with his new job and shit that gets in the way, not because he's still emotionally attached to it, or whatever his sister says. And even if that were the case, she should know better than to stick her nose where it doesn't belong.

"I think you should get rid of it," she says softly over the phone. Wooyoung doesn't even know how they've ended up talking about beds. He does remember something about pillows for pregnant women, though. "I think that's why you're always having nightmares, you know, because it reminds you of him."

When Junho walks (more like drags himself) into their flat later that night after his shift at the hospital, the only thing Wooyoung can think of saying--more like snarling--is, "I can't believe you fucking told my sister about the nightmares."

Junho stares at him, mouth hanging open a little, his coat still dangling off one of his arms. "What?"

"You told my sister about the nightmares." He knows Junho hasn't missed the way he's said  _ the  _ and not  _ my  _ because for months now Wooyoung's dreams--or nightmares; everything in between--don't feel  _ his  _ anymore. The fact Junho has caught onto it as well makes Wooyoung even more upset. "I talked to her today and she said it's because I still have that bed, what the fuck, Junho."

Wooyoung knows he's standing on mined ground right now because they never have this sort of confrontation, nor casual conversations about this particular topic either. Junho, instead of looking ashamed as Wooyoung thinks he should be, takes his coat off completely and patiently hangs it on the rack next to the door. It exasperates Wooyoung, Junho's calmness and ability to hold it together even when Wooyoung is being a decent little bitch and hurting from the inside out enough to want people around him hurting too.

"What was I supposed to do then?" Junho asks simply, not really waiting for an answer because it's not like Wooyoung has one either way. "Sit back and watch you toss and turn all night long? Wake up in the middle of the night and pretend you weren't crying in your sleep?"

Wooyoung's jaw tenses, his teeth itch. "You had no right to tell her. I thought you were my friend."

"You have  _ no  _ right telling me this." Junho's shoulders tense as he walks past Wooyoung on his way to his room. "If I weren't your friend I would've kicked your ass out  _ the first night _ and dumped your stuff on your head from this window. Think about that while you're at it, will you."

Junho doesn't slam doors; he's too polite to do so. Instead he closes them quietly, almost imperceptibly, and that's worse, because silence speaks tons more and hurts even deeper. Wooyoung sits down on the couch and buries his face in his hands, sighing heavily and cursing in every language he's learned until his eyes stop itching.

He sleeps little that night but not because of the nightmares, and spends most of it staring at the pillow next to his until darkness shapes into winter light. Wooyoung's fingers are idly tracing the patterns on the headboard, and it's like it comes rushing through his brain like a flood, all the memories, everything--Nichkhun sitting against it with the morning paper and his glasses hanging off the tip of his nose, Nichkhun watching a movie with a mouthful of half-chewed popcorn smiling at him, Nichkhun bracing himself on the edge with eyes dark, dark, dark--and it's like a blow to the gut, physical pain that leaves Wooyoung breathless and gasping for air.

When he walks into the kitchen for breakfast, he's not surprised to find his still warm and served.

Junho is groggily munching on his toast when Wooyoung says, "It's Saturday."

"Apparently," Junho mutters.

"Wanna help me pick a new bed-set-thingy?"

"Bed-set-thingy," Junho echoes. There are crusts at the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, a new bed-set-thingy," Wooyoung nods, fighting back a smile.

Junho nods, runs the back of his hand over his mouth messily. "Right. Yeah, sure, let's go."

He stops dreaming of Nichkhun altogether, but it still doesn't feel like a good thing.

 

iv:

Wooyoung isn't really going to buy a car because his office is only a bus ride away, but then Junho meets this guy Chansung and he has a gorgeous 65' Mustang on sale for the cheapest amount he'll ever hear of and Wooyoung thinks why the fuck not.

"The only condition, though," Chansung says, "is you fix it here. In my garage."

Wooyoung puts heart, mind, half his life's savings, and soul into fixing it all by himself in Chansung's shop, and he's nice enough to provide aid when Wooyoung needs it (like when he breaks a side-mirror by accident) and when Junho thinks it's needed (like when Wooyoung wants to screw the wheels all by himself).

When he's done with it, Chansung is smiling proudly at him, says something like, "I knew she'd be in great hands when Junho brought you," and Wooyoung laughs, harder and longer he can remember in months.

He stops by the hospital on his way home one afternoon and finds Junho walking out of the emergency wing still in his scrubs. He looks a bit perplexed when he finds Wooyoung standing on the street. "Oh god, please tell me no one died," he says, eyes wide as he walks up to him.

Wooyoung laughs and shakes his head, and smiles at Junho's friends slash coworkers when Junho waves bye at them. "Nah, everyone's fine."

"Okay, good, because I've dealt with too much death today," Junho frowns and then nudges Wooyoung's shoulder with his as they start walking down the street. "Then what is it? Why are you here? Did you lock yourself out again?"

"No, I didn't," Wooyoung smiles and takes the car keys off his pocket and pretty much dangles it all over Junho's face. "I'm done fixing the car."

Junho says there's only so much Wooyoung can actually fix and a lot more than he should thank Chansung for but when they reach Chansung's garage he stops talking altogether and simply gapes. Wooyoung relates deeply.

"Shit," Junho sighs, hugging himself, "she's gorgeous. You need to marry her soon or else I will and we'll elope together."

Wooyoung laughs just as Junho sags on a stool, and hops into the car for the first time ever. "I'm gonna take her for a ride."

Junho leers, "Ride her hard and long and-- _ ow _ . That was so uncalled for, Chansung."

Wooyoung smiles at Chansung and flashes him a thumbs up before driving out of the garage and down the street.

The leather is smooth under his fingers and even if he's tried not to put much thought into it, he can't help but be awed at this, at having fixed something with his own hands, scraps of metal and worn out leather and chipped painting. The irony isn't lost on him; if only fixing his own life were just as easy, some parts of it just as replaceable. He knows better, though.

When he gets home, Junho is at the kitchen table with his laptop open and a bowl of soup next to it. "I'm skyping with Minhye. She wants to say hi," he says, "c'mere."

"Hey, noona, you look lovely," Wooyoung says as he stands behind Junho's chair and waves.

"So do you!" Minhye grins, waving back. "Are you guys eating well?"

Junho nods, waves at the stove, "I even made soup! It's a bit too salty but it's edible."

Wooyoung wrinkles his nose. "I'll pass, but thank you."

"Wanker," Junho says, and shoves a spoonful of soup into his mouth.

"Imma leave you guys to it, then," Wooyoung chuckles and waves at Minhye. "Take care, you. Send my love to your mom."

Wooyoung walks out of the kitchen to Minhye's quiet laughter, "He looks great, reminded me a bit of that time at the pool."

That time at the pool is no other than the day both Junho and him and their obnoxious,  _ older  _ sisters decided to go to the pool together and Wooyoung got the sunburn of his life. But it was cool because at the end all three of them bought ice cream for him and the sting on his skin went a bit amiss after all the sugar. The only thing he remembers doing that day besides having ice cream is smiling.

He sits on his bed, the car keys still dangling off his fingers and he doesn't know how long he sits there staring into nothing until he's pulled out of his reverie, Junho standing at his door. By the looks of it he's been there for a while.

"It's your mom's birthday this weekend," he says, catching some light with the shining surface of his laptop. "She wants us both there. Says it's mandatory. A bit like a presidential decree."

Wooyoung dangles the keys. "Road-trip?"

He doesn't say the last time he jumped on the front seat of a car was with Nichkhun when they drove his beaten Chevy from Michigan to Tennessee on a whim and that the sole idea of sitting behind the wheel for more than two hours is terrifying, even if it's the 'stang and Junho this time.

Junho throws his head back and laughs. "Don't be stupid. My mom already bought plane tickets for us."

Wooyoung lets out a breath he wasn't aware of holding.

 

v:

As he stands in queue for customs checking, Wooyoung is reminded of why he doesn't like planes. Or airports, or any crowded place like this one, to be honest. He doesn't mind people, okay, he doesn't mind noisy people--he lives with Junho, after all--but he's not much of a fan of noisy places  _ with  _ noisy people so right now he kind of wants to run away and tell Junho to make up an excuse for him.

When he voices this thought, Junho laughs. "You're being ridiculous, Wooyoung, I swear. Why don't you listen to music or something while we make the line, then?"

"Because a certain someone decided to have sex on the couch without looking where their fat ass would be," Wooyoung retorts, and doesn't even feel sorry when Junho blushes fifty shades of red all the way to his hairline. "Really, Junho, both you and Chansung owe me a new iPod."

Junho turns his back on him, "Ssh, Wooyoung, I think they're calling out our flight number, you're too loud."

Despite the long queue and Junho tripping over his own shoelaces while boarding, it all goes pretty smooth. Wooyoung sits at the window and lets Junho have all the peanuts he wants since the window sit had Junho's name on it, and they even share ear-buds and listen to Junho's weird mix of Snoop Dogg and Hans Zimmer that makes Wooyoung question life altogether--but even like that, something has to go wrong.

It happens twenty minutes into their flight.

Wooyoung stares puzzled at Junho's iPod and can't believe his own ears because the last time he listened to any and all Tegan and Sara's song was about three years ago and it's like the lyrics just spill out of his mouth. Junho turns from the medical journal he's reading and stares back at Wooyoung until his face cracks up into laughter and then they're both loudly singing along to how silly it is to learn to swim when you start to drown.

"Oh god," Junho wheezes, holding his stomach, "oh god, Wooyoung, stop, they're gonna kick us out of the plane."

But they won't, not really, because they're too high up and besides, everyone is laughing, they're smiling, and that's cool, that means Wooyoung hasn't really fucked up. So he nudges Junho out of the way, grabs the iPod and puts it on repeat, sits back and sings out loud.

And that's when it really happens, because the world is obviously out to fucking  _ get  _ him, and Wooyoung just gives up, gives up and lets go because that's Nichkhun's favorite song and Wooyoung just sings and sings with Junho right next to him because Junho is his person, will always be, and he knows Junho would save him from drowning so it's okay, for now, and Wooyoung can sing all he wants.

" _ He grabs me by the hand _ ," Wooyoung grins cheekily, in a horrid accent, Junho's laughter loud and very hyena-like, " _ drags me to the shore and says 'Maybe you don't love me, but you'll grow to love me even more-- _ "

And when Wooyoung looks up to find Nichkhun staring at him from the hallway, skin white and lips pressed thinly together while clutching at the back of his neck, it's like he drowns and drowns and drowns.

 

vi:

Wooyoung had missed Mrs. Lee's bone-crushing hugs. He hugs back on autopilot, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt a bit (he's sure he looks a bit insane, too, but who cares--insane things have been happening all day) and walks into the living room where his own mom is already sitting and chatting happily.

She brightens when she spots him, her smile so wide and her eyes so shiny Wooyoung could burst into tears at how much he's missed her. He hugs her and lets her treat him like a five year old and then sits next to her all day, goes to wherever she goes because he's still five years old inside, and doesn't even flinch when his sister makes a comment about it.

"Did he leave his brain back in the plane?" Sooyoung asks with a cheeky grin, meant to tease but not to hurt, and yet Wooyoung aches everywhere.

Junho laughs, not awkwardly because he's a much better actor than Wooyoung is, and says "Yah, don't mess with him, I'm the only one allowed to that," because he's Wooyoung's person.

The afternoon goes smoothly, a lot of relatives arrive (Junho's relatives, at that, but since their family isn't that extensive Wooyoung has met each and one of them before--they're nice, always loud and hysteric, unlike Junho who is only hysteric when things don't go his way or when he hasn't slept more than four uninterrupted hours) and for a while Wooyoung forgets. Forgets all about Nichkhun and their small encounter, forgets about his eyes and the way his lips tugged at the corner and forgets especially about them standing next to each other while picking up their luggage.

It had been  _ unbearable _ , standing so close.

Junho was nice not to point out anything at the moment, but Wooyoung's felt his eyes on him throughout the whole afternoon, the uneasiness that Wooyoung himself has felt as well because it doesn't make sense, Nichkhun being here of all places--it just doesn't.

"Okay," Junho says a lot later, after everyone's drank too much wine and soju and Wooyoung's hidden himself in the room made up for the both of them. "Okay, we need to talk, man."

He looks tired and badly rested and Wooyoung wonders how much of that is actually  _ his  _ doing. "What is it?"

"What do you mean 'What is it'-- _ What is he doing here? _ " Junho asks, and he looks truly lost, like he can't believe stuff like this is happening. Certainly Wooyoung can't either.

Wooyoung runs a hand through his face. "I don't know. I honest to God do not know what he's doing here."

"Well, shit," Junho says as he sags on his bed. "Okay, okay, well, to make this easier I can only think of one solution."

"What solution?"

"You're not leaving this house until Tuesday to get to the airport," Junho nods gravely, and looks up from his glass of wine to meet Wooyoung's eyes. "Unless you want to see him?"

"You think I could run into him somewhere?" Wooyoung rubs his temples slowly. "I mean, town's not that small, is it, what's the worst thing that could happen?"

Junho shrugs. "I just. I don't wanna see you get hurt again. I think you handled it pretty well back at the plane but only 'cause we were three hundred feet in the air."

"Yeah," Wooyoung chuckles dryly, "not that many places to run off to."

"But…" Junho sighs, scratches the back of his head, "do you wanna see him? Again, I mean?"

Wooyoung doesn't have an answer to that and Junho is nice enough to not keep on prodding. He smiles tightly when Junho slips quietly out of the room (in lieu of more alcohol, possibly) and then drops himself on the mattress, locking eyes with the ceiling until the voices outside grow quieter. He slips into bed only wearing boxers because his bags are all the way in the foyer and he's too lazy to go get them, and when he sleeps he dreams of warmth and sand under his feet.

He wakes up to Sooyoung lying next to him, her rounded belly waving at him under her bright yellow blouse. "Hello, little brother," she says quietly, "meet Jiyoung."

Wooyoung chuckles and lets her cuddle close, and for a while they talk in hushed murmurs about what's been of them in the last year they haven't properly seen each other. Sooyoung's morning sickness isn't as bad but the hormonal swings and cravings at the weirdest of times are threatening to break this family apart, she says. Her husband is all the way in the States due work but he should be back soon, probably in a week or two, and Wooyoung nods slightly, says he kind of hates the States but doesn't elaborate much when she asks why.

"Hey, I wanna go to the beach," he says instead, poking her arm. "Want to come along? We can bring Minhye noona with us too. And that horrible small-eyed man Lee Junho."

She nods, "Sounds great. We can even try and drown him like that time in the seventh grade."

Wooyoung gets dressed humming the Tegan and Sara song.

 

vii:

"This was a terrible idea," Junho hollers from the water. "I hate you all!"

Wooyoung laughs and hurries back to the sand, sitting a few feet away from his and Junho's sister to watch Junho drag himself out of the water with algae sticking to his bare arms.

It's a nice day, it's sticky and hot all over and Wooyoung'd missed it; mornings at the beach, the salty water under his feet cold and a stark contrast to everything around him. He instantly thinks of his last summer here, the one before he got to school in Seoul. Everything was nice back then, he sighs, college made it all much more difficult because he was the new kid there, he had no one, no one to keep him from his Asian Studies class and Nichkhun.

Wooyoung supposes his life can no longer be split into Before Nichkhun and After Nichkhun because Nichkhun has forgotten about the main rule: not be part of the After Nichkhun bit and this is a very bad time to be thinking about Nichkhun, this is time to let go, breathe in the sea and relax.

"You are a horrible lot of people," Junho whines as he drops next to his sister, "if you weren't pregnant, Sooyoung-noona, you'd be gasping for air. I've got sand in very uncomfortable places." He turns to his sister. "You're horrible, please go drown over there."

They all laugh--Wooyoung a bit louder, more maniacally--and settle under their rented umbrella to look out for the seagulls and the kids frolicking near the water.

Sooyoung then starts telling them about her Lamaze classes and how she watched a video of a woman who gave birth to fifteen children in a row, and they all wail in horror, Minhye loudly declares she doesn't want children anymore, thank you very much, and Junho tells them he's seen worse than that.

"You're lying," Sooyoung says, and Wooyoung stares at her in awe because she's knitting. At the beach.

"I am not," Junho snorts, "you think  _ The sweetest thing _ got it bad? Try spending a night at the ER on Valentine's Day. I dare you. Really, there are places where one must not get piercings on. Or in, I don't know."

Everyone laughs again, Wooyoung included, and he drops back to lie on the sand, caring very little if it gets in his hair even when his sister nags at him about it.

"Alright, us ladies will go back to the house now because we're in charge of the food," Minhye says a while later, pushing herself up to her feet with her big hay hat dangling from one of her hands. She helps Sooyoung to her feet and then they both tower over Junho and him, smiling as they link their arms together. "Don't be late, boys, or you won't get any crab soup."

Both Wooyoung and Junho nod their heads and watch them go silently, and for a minute Wooyoung is left baffled with how nice it'd been if they had stayed here, how life would've been much easier and relaxing, probably. He turns back to the sea, watches the water ripple at the shore, and is so gone within his own thoughts that he doesn't catch Junho say "oh, fuck my life" until he says it once more and adds, "What the fuck are  _ you  _ doing here?"

When Wooyoung turns, Nichkhun is looking contrite and Junho has his fists bawled at his sides, shoulders stiff as he sits up on the sand. Wooyoung's stomach drops to the ground when Nichkhun's hair catches the sun and all he can think about is how it's really fucking unfair of him to look so perfect even if it's close to Scorching Balls degrees.

"Wooyoung," Nichkhun says, ignoring Junho completely, "can we talk? In private?"

Red was always Nichkhun's color. His skin was always pale but red made it look good either way, like fucking porcelain or something equally clear and perfect. His sleeveless shirt clings to him awkwardly, his arms are thinner than Wooyoung remembers, and it's pretty bizarre, how badly Wooyoung wants to ask whether he's been eating well because his cheekbones are sharper than they were once, too.

Should he? Should Wooyoung let Nichkhun talk to him? But it's not like he can just up and leave him hanging there under the sun. (Actually, he can, but if there's one thing he'll show Nichkhun is he's nothing like him.) 

The thing is Wooyoung's not sure if there's something left to talk about, either, not after four whole years of silence--but. But his gut is telling him differently, and his brain is fighting back as hard as possible but it is not going to work, because Wooyoung's always been a bit weak when it comes to Nichkhun, in all honesty.

He swallows thickly, looks from Nichkhun to Junho. Junho shrugs minutely, his shoulders still as stiff, but a bit more relenting. "Don't skip lunch," he says slowly as he hops to his feet, "I'll tell them you wanted to swim for a while."

Wooyoung nods just as Nichkhun says "Thank you," but Junho turns his narrow eyes on him, "You can suck it for all I care," and then leaves Nichkhun standing with his mouth agape, eyes wide and disbelieving.

Hard to believe they used to be good friends back when.

Wooyoung clears his throat pointedly. "So," he gestures to the empty spot next to him under the umbrella, "talk."

Nichkhun hesitates for five full seconds before sitting down next to Wooyoung, two feet separating them almost painfully because Wooyoung, even if mad at the world and completely scared shitless, still wants to reach out and curl his fingers around Nichkhun's arm and pull him closer, closer until he can count the faint freckles on his shoulders.

He buries his fingers in the sand just as Nichkhun opens his mouth to let out a quick rush of words that sound something like, "I--I didn't expect you to accept--that you'd agree to talk to me--so, uhm, I'm not sure what the right thing to say is except--fuck, Wooyoung, I'm so,  _ so  _ sorry."

Wooyoung bites down on his inner cheek to stop himself from talking but it comes out anyway, "Don't know where I've heard that one before."

Nichkhun turns towards him, angles his body so he's facing Wooyoung dead and square. Wooyoung pointedly stares out into the ocean, stiff as a rock.

"I know," Nichkhun says, "I know, and that's what I'm apologizing for as well. You have to understand--"

Wooyoung stands up then, shakes his hands to wipe the sand away and almost wishes for it to stick into Nichkhun's eyes, but it doesn't happen. This was a  _ terrible _ idea. "I don't have to understand, not really," he sighs, "what's done is done, yeah? Just. Don't."

Nichkhun stands as well, shaking his head. "No, I came here to explain and I'm going to do it, whether you listen or not."

"Kinda misses the whole point if I'm not listening, don't you think?" Wooyoung chuckles, squaring his shoulders. There really isn't much he wants to listen, especially if it all goes back to "I have a complicated family", and spares Nichkhun one last glance before turning his back on him and walking away.

Nichkhun stays silent and Wooyoung takes that as the end of the conversation, so it's perfectly understandable how his heart jumps when Nichkhun raises his voice, "Do you remember Michigan?" from under the rented umbrella they were standing under. "You said you wouldn't change it for the world. You said you loved me and you'd be there with me even if we didn't get the car started next morning."

And wow, Nichkhun really knows how to aim low and perfect, straight to the gut. It actually hurts, deep and cutting, because Wooyoung  _ remembers _ , remembers the whole trip like it happened yesterday, and Nichkhun is right, they'd been trying to start up the car for a whole morning while stuck in a ratty motel but it had been perfect, wonderful, even with the scorching temperature, because it had just been the two of them.

He's still trying to catch his breath when he turns and throws, "Do you remember what happened after we got the car started, though?" People is looking at them now, but Wooyoung couldn't care less, because it's fucking priceless to watch Nichkhun's face break and fall to the sand. "You didn't only dump the Chevy at the airport's parking lot, you know? There was a lot more than that."

Nichkhun says nothing, but Wooyoung still feels like the air is being sucked out of him slowly, limbs numb and heavy as he walks back home, his fingers curling and uncurling on themselves, itching to touch and grip and hold.

 

viii:

"Jang Wooyoung, you are coming with me to the market."

Wooyoung looks up from the morning paper and stares at his mom with wide eyes and a stripe of bacon hanging off his mouth for five full seconds before saying, "Me?"

Junho laughs from where he's playing with one of his little cousins, "He just woke up, he's a bit dim, auntie."

"Go get ready, I want to be there before Mrs. Choi gets all the good crabs," his mom ushers, taking the paper from him and rolling it to smack him over the head. "Hurry up, I'm telling you!"

That's how Wooyoung ends up at the local market looking for crabs only fifteen minutes later, her mom walking ahead of him. She greets some of the vendors, smiles and waves over at Wooyoung, says, "Yeah, that's my son, isn't he handsome," and it makes Wooyoung stand there feeling awkward for the first part of their shopping until he just laughs and waves back, thinking  _ oh well _ .

When she's got all the crabs she can get her hands on, they walk back home talking about everything and nothing, and when he says he "kinda maybe sorta bought a car, but I swear it wasn't even expensive," she laughs and nudges him almost out of the sidewalk.

"Oh well, as long as you're happy, dear," she smiles warmly, taking his hand in hers. She turns to him then, frowning slightly but smile still there. "You are happy, aren't you?"

He smiles at her, nods once. "Of course I am."

She smiles wider then, the crease between her eyebrows disappearing completely, and Wooyoung pats himself in the back for a lie well executed. "I'm glad, Wooyoung. All I want for you is to be happy. Nothing matters to me the most."

"What if my happiness doesn't make you happy?" he blurts out of nowhere. "What if me being happy caused you to suffer in the long run?"

His mom stares at him for a couple of seconds, still smiling because she's always been the smiley one in the family, not like Sooyoung whose smiles were rare and quite especial when she actually shared one, or like their dad, who only smiled around the three of them, quiet and serene and peaceful. His mom, however, smiles to everything and everyone, no questions asked.

"I don't think your happiness could ever bring me pain, dear," she says, and strokes his cheek. "All parents ever want is for their children to be happy. And that's what your dad and I want for the two of you as well."

Wooyoung smiles at her and squeezes her hand, "Thanks, mom."

She smiles back, patting her cheek once before letting go. "Okay, now that all emotional crises are averted, I need to get some vegetables. Wait here, I'll go into Mr. Kang's shop and be right back, okay?" She hands over the bags and stares sternly at him. "Don't lose those crabs, young man."

Wooyoung laughs and watches her go silently, and thinks of maybe texting Junho telling him to start a bonfire in the backyard because he's got nice fish in these bags and they can't use it all for soup or stew anyways. He's trying to pull his phone out of his pocket without letting any of the bags fall when someone clears his throat a few feet away.

His heart only stutters slightly at the sight of Nichkhun. Huh, he thinks.

"Need some help?" Nichkhun asks, pointing at the bags.

Wooyoung shakes his head, abandons the texting idea entirely. "No, it's fine. What are you doing here?"

"The place where I'm staying is only a block away," Nichkhun says, and nods his head to the street behind Wooyoung. He points at the bags again. "You cooking for an army?"

"My mom enjoys cooking," Wooyoung shrugs, holding the handles a bit tighter. "She's gone to get more stuff now, actually."

"Ah," Nichkhun nods slowly, and then they fall into awkward silence, only broken by a few kids playing soccer down the street with their raucous laughter and whistling.

When Wooyoung's mom walks out of Mr. Kang's, she's got four more bags and Wooyoung breaks into a cold sweat--Nichkhun is actually really close and there's no way in hell she won't ask who the hell he is and the last thing Wooyoung wants to do now is explain who the hell Nichkhun is because he's not sure either.

"Okay, I found Brussels sprouts, your dad will be glad--oh," she says when she approaches, and Nichkhun's eyes snap wide open when she looks at him from Wooyoung and then back and  _ fuck _ , Wooyoung thinks,  _ fuckfuckfuck _ .

"Hello," she greets warmly, her eyes crinkling. "Are you friend of Wooyoung's?"

"Uh, yeah--"

"Mom, this is--"

"I'm Nichkhun--"

"Yeah, Nichkhun," Wooyoung finishes lamely. "From college."

It all goes south from there, because his mom not only invites Nichkhun over for lunch ("I always cook a lot, dear, might as well feed you 'cause you look skinny, right, Wooyoung? Doesn't he look skinny?"), but she also manages to make him stay for dinner because there's still a lot of fish left and hey, why don't you guys start a fire and grill some, huh, sound like a great idea, right?

Junho gets the food ready all by himself; he doesn't want Sooyoung on her feet and doesn't trust Minhye near a knife, and then says he'll start the grill and it's honestly quite hard to guess which one is fuming harder, him or the flames he just built, so Wooyoung doesn't get in his way and only helps when prompted. Nichkhun is sitting with Sooyoung and Minhye since they both have a thing for pretty guys (also, no one says no to a pregnant lady, apparently), and Wooyoung wants to shoo them away because it's embarrassing, what they're doing, hovering all over Nichkhun and asking really personal questions.

"I swear your mom scares the heck out of me sometimes," Junho mutters under his breath while slicing the fish.

"Your sister scares me the most, I think she just tried to feel him up," Wooyoung points out.

Junho sighs. "That sounds like something she'd do."

They stay silent while Junho finishes whatever he's trying to do to the fish ("shut up, Wooyoung, I'm holding a knife, do not mess with my cooking skills,") and Wooyoung stares at the three people sitting around the garden table, and it's almost surreal because if things had gone down differently and Wooyoung had introduced them in time, they wouldn't be so cozy with each other now.

"Has he said anything?" Junho asks quietly.

Wooyoung worries the inside of his lip between his teeth, shoving his hands into his short's pockets. Nichkhun chooses that moment to look up from where Sooyoung is showing him family pictures and Wooyoung averts his gaze, choosing to stare at the fire and the fish slowly burning over it instead.

"Just that he's sorry. Something about his family, can't remember what else," he mumbles.

Junho pokes the coal with a long wooden stick, looking up at the party of three across the garden before glancing back into the fire. "I'm not siding with him by saying this 'cause you know I've got your back and I'd honest to God shove this thing down his throat to defend your non-existent honor, but he looks…" he trails off slightly, "I don't know, he looks a bit beaten up. Don't you think?"

Wooyoung looks back up at Nichkhun, finds him smiling faintly at him. It's no longer a painful blow but more like a strong shake in the shoulders and it leaves Wooyoung with far more questions than healthily advised. 

"I'm trying not to think," he says at last, his lips curving up on their own.

 

xix:

"Coffee can't hurt," Wooyoung mutters to his reflection in the mirror, trying to fix the cap over his head. He peeks out the door and into the room, frowning at Junho. "Can it?"

"Unless you throw it at his face, I don't see the problem," he says flatly, sprawled over the bed while watching bad reality shows. "You can pay the barista to spit on his, though, and I fully support that."

"You're so rotten inside, Lee Junho, I swear," Wooyoung shakes his head and walks back into the room, steals the remote from Junho and turns the TV off. "I'm having a crisis here and you're ditching me for Snooki? Really?"

"Alright, alright," Junho tsks his tongue while sitting up, "Snooki can wait, I guess. So, what's up? What's the crisis about? It's not like this is the first time you're gonna sit down for a cup of coffee."

"It's the first time in four years, actually," Wooyoung says absently.

"Well, fuck," Junho sighs. "Why did you agree to do this again?"

"I didn't," Wooyoung purses his lips. "My mom did it for me, she's just evil like that."

"Remind me not to ever mess with her, Jesus."

"What are we even going to talk about?" Wooyoung laughs hysterically. "The weather? News? Sports? Snooki?"

"How about you talk about you? I mean, it's been years, right? And, yeah, shit hit the fan back then, but maybe you need to hear his side of the story now?"

Wooyoung narrows his eyes. "Five minutes ago you wanted me to have someone spit on his drink, now you want me to hear him out?"

"Hey," Junho holds up his hands placatingly, "you can both spit on his drink and listen to whatever he has to say, no one will hold it against you."

"Why are we even friends?" Wooyoung moans, hiding his face behind his hands. "Okay. Okay, whatever. I'm going. Bye, have fun with Snooki."

Wooyoung walks out of the room with Junho's laughter ringing in his ears, and it does little to nothing to calm his nerves, especially when he arrives at the little coffee shop near the deck and finds Nichkhun standing outside with his hands shoved in the pockets of his denim shorts.

The sun is setting over the horizon and everything looks a bit golden so if Wooyoung's breath catches a bit at the sight, it's completely understandable.

"Hey," he says while approaching. "Sorry I'm late."

Nichkhun shakes his head once, smile barely there. "It's okay, I figured your mom would eventually kick you out against your will." He rubs the back of his neck then, awkward as he waves at the coffee shop with its cozy looking lights. "Listen, we don't have to do this."

"We don't?" and Wooyoung really doesn't mean to sound so crestfallen but fuck it, it's there, in every bit of his voice and crease of his face, so Nichkhun might as well take it.

Nichkhun looks down at the ground before looking up at Wooyoung, and it's--strange. A bit weird how Nichkhun's inner battle is so obvious in his eyes; perhaps he hasn't changed much because his eyes were always that transparent, and Wooyoung was always that perceptive.

It's been four years, though, Wooyoung reminds himself. Something better had changed.

"Coffee can't hurt, right?" Nichkhun says softly, and angles his shoulders towards the shop's entrance, and Wooyoung bites back the laughter trying to break through his chest because seriously, the sea is just there, like twenty feet away, and all Wooyoung wants is for it to swallow him whole.

They sit opposite to each other in a small table near the window and they don't talk much, barely open their mouths to order a cup of coffee and a cup of chocolate, please, and besides that there's nothing. Wooyoung looks down at his hands and then up at the set of napkins in front of him and then to the side where the window is and the sea outside is growing darker and darker the lower the sun gets. It's a pretty sight, and the more Wooyoung sees the more he wishes he'd stayed.

"Sometimes I wished I'd stayed here," he says slowly, each word carefully laid out because he doesn't mean to hurt Nichkhun. But he can tell by the shift of his hands on top of the table cloth that it's working exactly like that, like a punch, a strike that Wooyoung may have planned and dreamed of but never really meant to throw.

It takes a long, thumping heartbeat for Nichkhun to say, "It's nice here. You look good here--at peace."

Then comes more silence. Wooyoung sits back on his chair, eyes still staring out the window because if he looks back at Nichkhun he might break a little more and it's not fair, especially since he just managed to put himself back together.

"Be honest with me, Khun," Wooyoung breathes after a while, and has to smile at the waitress when she drops their orders at the table, cutting Wooyoung off with the clatter of porcelain on top of clothed wood.

She smiles back, flirty, white teeth and pink cheeks, and when she asks if there's something else they want, Nichkhun says no a little bit on the defensive side, his voice sharp and cutting.

It makes Wooyoung smile despite himself because he remembers something like this happening at the very beginning, back when everything Nichkhun wanted was to "help out with your essays, I can give you pointers my dad doesn't really find important, you know? So you get straight A's!"

They each take a sip off their cups and then settle back into silence, and Wooyoung wonders whether it's supposed to be like this, whether it'll be like this always. You know, if there's an  _ always  _ somewhere down the road.

Wooyoung stirs his chocolate. "Why are you here?"

He doesn't look up but he can see Nichkhun leaning his elbows on the table out of the corner of his eyes. "I remembered your mom's birthday. I've been coming here for the past three years hoping to find you, actually."

Wooyoung has to look up at this. "That's a bit creepy, you realize."

Nichkhun chuckles. Loudly. It soon turns into a full-on fit of laughter and Wooyoung supposes there's a joke somewhere in what he said but.

"I know it's creepy. I know, Wooyoung," Nichkhun says gently, his voice light and noncommittal. "Doesn't mean it's not true."

"You're telling me," Wooyoung starts, holding his hand up and trying really hard not to find this piece information hilarious because he's sure he shouldn't. "You're telling me you've been coming here every year for my mother's birthday hoping you'd, what? Run into me somewhere? In the market? At Mrs. Choi?"

Nichkhun's hands are around his cup of coffee, his thumbs tracing the worn out flowery pattern on the side. "I--I wasn't thinking much? All I knew was that maybe there was a chance I could talk to you and. Well. There wasn't. And to be honest the first time I came here was on business. The whole 'let's wait around for Wooyoung to show up' idea came long after."

"I've been Skyping with my mom for her birthday ever since I came back from the States," Wooyoung points out, frowning. "I was broke as fuck and. Yeah. And Junho refused to cover for my plane tickets long before we finished college."

"I have to be here twice a year anyways," Nichkhun tries for a shrug but somehow he just nods and eventually his whole body is moving awkwardly in front of Wooyoung. "I made sure one of those times could be arranged this way. You know, just in case."

Wooyoung looks up from his chocolate. "You never--you haven't talked to her, have you? Or my sister? They don't know, right?" Nichkhun shakes his head and Wooyoung sighs, relieved. "Okay, yeah. Thank you."

"No problem," Nichkhun says quietly.

This time the silence is a lot more awkward than the previous ones. Wooyoung goes for his mug and takes a large sip, managing to scald his tongue and throat in the process. He tries very hard not to cough his lungs out and breathes in deeply through his nose, blinking tears away. It's completely dark outside now, and Wooyoung wonders if Junho would laugh too hard if he texted asking him to come and get Wooyoung home.

"I didn't marry her, you know," Nichkhun's voice is barely above a murmur and Wooyoung has to look back at him to actually make sure he's opened his mouth at all.

And the sight--it's not pretty. Nichkhun looks tired, spent and defeated, and Wooyoung suddenly aches for him from the deepest core of his being. It's unsettling, disturbing in a way, and it makes him queasy, makes him want to cough and maybe throw up half the chocolate he's had.

Nichkhun continues, "We didn't even get engaged. My dad, he--well, there's nothing he could've done, you know? My mom refused to acknowledge it, too. It's been a couple of rough years back home. They split up last summer. My brother still doesn't talk to me. My sisters visit when they're on school break."

Wooyoung was sixteen when he came out to his dad. He was thirteen when he told his mom, though, and Sooyoung had known, always. He can't imagine what it'd be like, to have half his family stop talking to him or something like that. And Nichkhun's dad… well. He'd gone a bit crazy, and he'd dragged Nichkhun down, too. 

But now Wooyoung kind of gets it. Kind of because it still hurts, deep and cutting, but it doesn't hurt the same way it hurts Nichkhun--that's a type of pain Wooyoung has never had to face. He wants to reach out, wants to take Nichkhun's hand and cling to him for dear life, because--and let's be real here--if Nichkhun walks away now, now of all times, Wooyoung is one hundred percent sure he'd beg him not to.

"I'm sorry," he says, a bit lamely at that, but it doesn't make it any less true. "I'm sorry about the other day at the beach, I--I should've heard you out."

"I don't want you to feel sorry for me, or for anything at all." Nichkhun holds his gaze at this and it's easy this time, easier than it's ever been. "I just need you to know that I'm sorry about how everything went down. I never meant to just leave, I wanted to go back to you--and I did, except you weren't there anymore. And I can't blame you, you know. I wouldn't have waited for me, either."

"Don't do that," Wooyoung croaks. "Don't try to belittle yourself. Don't."

Nichkhun's lips are white. They stare at each other for one, two, three heartbeats, and Wooyoung  _ wants _ , wants so much he aches with it. "Do you hate me?" Nichkhun asks.

It takes two seconds for Wooyoung to burst out laughing. "No," he says, looking up at the ceiling and wiping the corners of his eyes. "Couldn't even if I tried."

Even then, Wooyoung doesn't think he ever really tried too hard.

Nichkhun is smiling when Wooyoung glances back at him, small and unsure but happy, his eyes brighter, so much brighter than before. "I missed your laugh," he says.

"I know," Wooyoung nods. "I've missed it too."

 

x:

Back in Seoul everything goes back to its usual calmness. He's doing extra hours at the office because he's looking for a sweet promotion and he can already feel it, private office and comfy chairs. He barely sees Junho lately since he's going through residency shifts and apparently those are crazy, but when they do see each other Junho can't stop talking about how much he loves it, helping people, helping others, and how he feels like he's finally good at something.

And sometimes--well, Nichkhun texts. Sometimes he sends emails. And that's how Wooyoung knows where he is, sometimes. When he texts it means he's in Seoul and when he emails it means he's off somewhere being the responsible businessman he was raised to be.

Wooyoung reads them all, replies with questions of his own ( _ how come I never knew you were into ships and engineering?? Wait, this doesn't make you a pirate does it? _ ) and it's--it's  _ nice _ . They're not back together, they're not precisely off, either. It's still like walking over hot sand, though, sometimes, hurts in the weirdest of ways until it doesn't anymore.

Junho makes a comment about it once. Wooyoung is trying to paint his room's walls green because apparently it's a very relaxing color or whatever it was he read online, and Junho is hanging around in the hall and flat-out refusing to help.

"You look better now," he says with a smile, one Wooyoung can't see from where he's crouching down and trying to reach the furthest end of the wall without moving his bed completely out of the way. "I'm glad you guys are sorting things out, you know. I mean I know it didn't seem like it, but I am glad."

Wooyoung gives up on painting and stands up, shuffles awkwardly from one foot to another and shrugs. "I don't know if it's the same, though?" His voice shakes a little because it's the first time he's talked about it ever since the day he went out for coffee with Nichkhun and it's been--damn it, it's been almost six months.

"Like, it feels right, and yeah, we're okay, but it's. It's--just friendly. It's not the same." Wooyoung looks down, decides looking at the weird blotch of paint he dropped on the carpet is easier than meeting Junho's confused gaze.

"It is never going to be the same, Wooyoung," Junho says slowly. "Doesn't work that way. Everything changes. Everyone changes, for better or for worse."

Wooyoung supposes he's right but it still doesn't make him feel better. 

When Nichkhun shows up at his office, a bag of scones and two cups of coffee-to-go held tightly in his hand, Wooyoung's heart leaps into his throat and decides to camp there until further notice. Wooyoung can barely breathe but he covers it up quite quickly. Nichkhun looks--he looks good. Rested, happy, like he's had a good day so far and wants to share it with someone except he's not sure someone wants to listen.

"Let me guess," Wooyoung says, fighting back a smile because he does want to listen, and he can't believe how much, "you come to Gangnam twice a year and just happened to run into the building I work at."

Nichkhun chuckles. "Actually, this was all Sooyoung's doing. I think she's trying to set us up." He says it lightly, like it's a joke none of them will catch on, but the underlying statement is there, Wooyoung can hear it and smell it and taste it. And then Nichkhun smiles and all Wooyoung can think of is warm sand under his feet, of the smell of salty water.

"And, uh, we just bought properties here in Seoul so no more travelling around, I guess." He smiles wider when Nichkhun clears his throat and dangles the paper bag with the scones Wooyoung can already smell from behind his desk. "Anyway, I bring food as a peace offering," he says, smiling.

They start going out--like in  _ dates _ , you know.

It's  _ hilarious _ , so fucking hilarious Wooyoung wants to snort at everything they do because they've done it before. They do dinners and sometimes lunch, when Nichkhun is not in meetings and Wooyoung is not taking care of the bunch of interns that are sent his way (seriously, what do they teach in Law School these days?!). They rarely do breakfast because Junho makes it and Wooyoung can never turn it down or else his mother gets involved and those are quite painful phone conversations about being raised better than that and can't he see Junho is trying to take care of him, Jang Wooyoung, so help her God she won't tell his dad about it.

And yet it still feels odd.

Nichkhun asks him to the movies once. He says he's really into the Bond's movies and that the last one is coming out soon and it'd be cool to watch it, besides, it has The Queen so really, they  _ have to _ watch it. Wooyoung agrees and tells him they'll meet up there because he has to put a couple of depositions up for checking with his boss but that it shouldn't take long.

Except it does. Wooyoung arrives around forty-five minutes late and he's sweating like a pig because it's rush hour and he's had to run from his cab stuck in traffic eight blocks away. Nichkhun is sitting on the benches in front of the candy booth, and he has enough candy to start his own booth by the looks of it.

"I'm so sorry," Wooyoung says as he approaches, "one of my interns fucked up and then I had to fix what he'd done and I'm so sorry I'm late."

Nichkhun smiles, shakes his head. "It's okay, I just arrived as well. Bought all these to make up for it 'cause I thought you'd been waiting for me too."

Wooyoung laughs, flops next to Nichkhun on the bench. "How about we get a few drinks instead? It's been a long week."

A drink turns into two and perhaps into six or seven but thankfully Wooyoung knows where to draw the line. The pub they're at is only a fifteen minute walk away from Wooyoung's place and when Nichkhun offers to walk with home since he can take a cab from there or something, Wooyoung nods, his eyes a bit hazy and his brain a bit buzzy from beer.

They walk and they talk and Nichkhun is telling him about how the first time he got to Busan he ran into Mrs. Choi and had the fright of his life when she pinched his cheeks hard enough to hurt when Wooyoung bursts out laughing perhaps a bit louder than he should. It's the alcohol, though, because it's not that funny, but he still doubles over, hands on his knees, his ribs and sides coiling painfully as he just  _ laughs _ .

"Hey, stop," Nichkhun says, although he's laughing too, "you're not allowed to laugh at me, you know."

Wooyoung wipes tears off his eyes. "Well, you're not allowed to make me laugh this much, then," he counters, and nudges Nichkhun almost out of the sidewalk.

Nichkhun's eyes are bright when he catches himself, clinging to a lamp post, "But I like making you laugh."

It shouldn't be this hard, a small part of Wooyoung wheezes. But another one asks whether they were supposed to work things out in the first place. So, eventually Wooyoung is struggling inside, and the alcohol makes it all better--no, worse, it makes it all worse. It's getting harder to breathe, too, Wooyoung has to strain his lungs to get some air in; he wheezes loudly, clutching at his side.

Fuck, it's like drowning and Wooyoung fucking hates it, hates Nichkhun for making him feel this way and hates himself for hating Nichkhun.

"I used to laugh a lot, you know," Wooyoung rasps, his tongue catching up with beer number seven. He looks up at Nichkhun and double takes when he realizes he's sitting down on the front steps of his building, the concrete hard under his ass. "Then you came along."

Nichkhun nods, disentangles himself from the post and drags his feet to where Wooyoung is sitting, dropping himself carefully on the steps. The air is chilly around them. "And then I left."

"And then you left," Wooyoung agrees. He draws his legs up (more like wills them to come closer because they're a separate entity by themselves, and how much did he have to drink again?) and rests his cheek on top of his knees. He closes his eyes. "Wish you hadn't, you know. I really liked you."

"You did?" There's laughter in Nichkhun's voice, but it's the one that shreds everything Nichkhun is into pieces and Wooyoung hates it.

He opens his eyes, stares at Nichkhun sideways. "I was in love with you," he says, and then frowns. "Am. I don't know. You make it all so complicated, dude, seriously."

Nichkhun laughs then, truly laughs, the quiet laugh that is his to enjoy and for everyone else to wonder about because it's so quiet it can go missing as far as everyone's concerned. He curls his hands around the bag he's been holding through the night, the one with candies and a piece of frozen lasagna Taecyeon, the bartender, had convinced him to buy.

"I was in Washington a few months ago," Nichkhun says, peeking inside the bag and rummaging in it, "I know your birthday is still in April but let's see this as an early gift of sorts." Wooyoung barely lifts his head to watch Nichkhun pull out a smaller bag from his big one. He offers it to Wooyoung and Wooyoung takes it, peeking inside. "They had like two dates only and they were sold out but I got my assistant to get me one of these before they rolled up."

After adjusting his vision a bit more, Wooyoung realizes the contents of the bag are a t-shirt with printed words on the front, light blue on dark cotton. "Junho says they're still one of your favorites, so I thought you'd like one."

And Wooyoung. Well, he's having a bit of trouble breathing because he recognizes the lyrics before he can recognize anything else. The fact Nichkhun knows he stills listens (or stalks, whatever) to Tegan and Sara doesn't have to mean anything and yet it means everything because those words printed on fabric,  _ Ocean please help me drown those memories-- _ those are not the lyrics to Nichkhun's favorite song but Wooyoung's.

"That's my favorite song," Wooyoung says quietly, sitting up.

Nichkhun looks at the shirt in his hands and then to Wooyoung. "So, you like it, yes? 'Cause, I mean, I can get you another one. I think they'll be in Vegas next month and I can, like, ask someone--"

"I'm going to kiss you now," Wooyoung declares, breathless, and Nichkhun stops talking, eyes wide, and  _ yes _ , Wooyoung thinks,  _ finally _ , because he nods once, twice, his fingers bunching around Wooyoung's shirt to pull him close, closer, closer until the only thing left to do for Wooyoung is hold his breath and dive in.

And kissing Nichkhun--it's a bit like drowning. Nichkhun tastes like salt from the tequila and his skin is warm, almost sun kissed and he takes Wooyoung's breath away and holds on until Wooyoung feels dizzy and like he's going to die in the best possible way ever.

Nichkhun's hand has found its way around Wooyoung's neck, his fingers gently buried in the short hair there. He's breathless and his lips are red and swollen and it takes a lot of effort for Wooyoung not to lean in again. They breathe in deeply for a while, Wooyoung's hands still buried in Nichkhun's hair, and god, he'd  _ missed  _ this.

Eventually, Nichkhun is the first one to speak. " _ Maybe you don't love me _ ," he recites, and Wooyoung bursts out laughing right there where he's sitting and he doesn't care whether the whole neighborhood wakes up. Nichkhun pinches his side, laughs as well, murmuring  _ sshh  _ before resuming, " _ maybe you don't love me, but you'll grow to love me even more _ ."

" _ Well _ ," Wooyoung nods, takes Nichkhun's hands and holds on. " _ I'm not surprised _ ."

  
  


**the end.**

 


End file.
